Waking Up - DeanxOC
by ALostWinchester
Summary: One minute I'm a 23yr old Supernatural fan and going to bed. The next I'm waking up next to Dean Winchester , my husband, I'm 31 and we have a frickin' kid! And on top of that - Wait, who messed around with reality this time? If TV is real, then what was I watching? What's going on? DeanxOC
1. Chapter 1

I was the average girl living the average life; I was getting ready to move out of my parent's houses (divorced) in a month, I had a full time desk job that allowed me enough money and time to go out at the weekends but golly, nobody ever invited me out or even responded to any invites I extended. So yes, average life: shit friends, fighting parents, and a dead end job. I sound bitter now, but I get like that from time to time. Mostly I was happy with my little life; I was in a band and a drama group which allowed me plenty opportunity to do what I loved most and perform on stage.

So waking up to Jensen Ackles wasn't something I saw coming. His eyes opened a little as I took a sharp intake of breath. He smiled at me as though I was someone familiar, and I tried to work out how the fuck I got where I was. Dreaming was the first theory but then I'd never been a vivid dreamer.

"What's the matter?" he asked. I had no words. What was the story here? "Ronnie, what's wrong?"

His brow furrowed and he turned onto his side. The covers drifted away from him and I reckon if I wasn't shell shocked I'd have swooned. I put my hand against my head and kept it there. I leaned back and tried to look around the room. Something had to make sense from there; purple, silver and mahogany everywhere. I knew it was all mine, but I didn't remember where I got it from, or putting it there.

I turned to him at last, "What the fuck is going on?"

His brows furrowed out of concern and into wondering. "What's your name?"

"Veronica Clarkson."

"Winchester. You're Veronica Winchester." He stated.

"When did that happen?" I asked. We were both pleasantly calm about this. I was surprised.

"Six years ago. What do you remember?"

"How old am I?"

"Thirty-one."

I gasped. Seven years of my life were missing. Tears sprang to my eyes, my hand hovered over my mouth.

"Ronnie, I'll fix this." He promised. He was Dean Winchester; the fictional character I had adored since the TV Programme Supernatural started (except when Sam lost his soul, I wavered throughout that). I didn't know what was happening, but it was happening; nothing I could do about that.

"My parents – my brother – who are they?"

"Bill and Andrea Clarkson and your brother Paul Clarkson."

"Okay." I felt relieved, like I could stop crying and I calmed down. My life had collided with fiction. I started to laugh.

"Maybe we should go out, get something to eat. Talk."

I nodded. He pulled some things off a chair and walked out,

"I'll let you get changed." He smiled, sadness touching his eyes. I sat for a while, digesting the information. Based on the things I knew about supernatural I had two fundamental questions

1) Where had we settled? The town name, the city, the fucking country.

2) What supernatural entity had screwed with my reality?

Eventually I went to a drawer I could assume had my clothes in it; that where I would put clothes right? So I found jeans, and a block black t-shirt. Usually I'd need a belt but I almost struggled with the button on those jeans. That was unsettling.

I moved to the door and I realised, Dean was talking to Sam on the phone.

"Sam, she had no idea what's been happening the last seven years. I'll handle it, just come over and take care of Robbie. Thank you."

Who the Hell was Robbie? I walked down the stairs and there he was; in the flesh; my freaking idol.

"Ready to go?" he asked, passing me a red leather Jacket. It was a lot more worn out now but I still loved it. You have no idea how good it felt to see something I recognised. That, I bought with my first bonus from my work. Did I still work there?


	2. Chapter 2

I smiled, putting the jacket on and he took that as confirmation enough. I followed his lead out of what was unmistakably Bobby Singers house. Was he dead in this... lets call it a dimension. The Impala was real. It looked like my jacket inside – worn and loved. I slid into the front seat and to my body it felt familiar.

"What do you think happened?" I asked.

"Can't say I have even an idea. Not unless Sam, Bobby and I didn't kill the Lithe like we thought."

"Lithe?"

"Greek Goddess." He looked to me, "Steals memories."

I sighed. ACDC played from the tape. I smirked and mimed along. It made me think,

"So how did we meet?"

"ACDC concert."

I grinned. The night before I woke up seven years later was the night before I was going to go to my first ACDC concert.

"You asked me and Sam to lift you up to crowd surf when you aren't banging off people in a mosh pit."

"Sounds like I was having a good time."

"You were until you got into a fight."

"Me?" I'm not scared of anybody but I've never been one for fighting. I'm the back up that's so intimidating and insane looking no one will dare try anything stupid. To hear I was in a fight and couldn't remember was unreal.

"Against a guy twice your size. He pushed you into me and I hit him. You reappeared with a drink for me."

"I'm that kind of guy."

"Yes you are." He smiled. He pulled up to a diner and the fanfics I'd based around the Winchester's and diners were resonating in my mind's eye.

"Listen," He started, rummaging in his pocket and puling out a small envelop. He looked at it for a second before passing it to me. "This was taken a couple of weeks ago. I'll be outside when you're ready."

I took the envelope. Wondered why he was outside the car, leaning against the window with his hands in his jacket pockets and opened the envelope. A sonogram. The reality of this unreality hit me, but I tried my damndest to explain it away as something else. It just wasn't working. I got out the car and turned to look at him over the hood.

"Who is Robbie."

"Our son." He said plainly.

"And I'm..." I couldn't say it.

"We found out last month."

I sighed.

"Hungry?"

"Starving."

I followed him inside.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi Dean, Ronnie." A young waitress sighed. "Don't worry; it's de-caf'." She winked, pouring us both some coffee. Everyone knew. Everyone knew me. How could I pull this off? She moved on.

"Do I still work at Bennets?" I asked.

"No, you gave that up to chase the band. When that bombed you became a promoter. You still are."

"Fuck... I just lost seven years of job experience."

He laughed. "I forgot how much you used to swear; we went cold turkey after Robbie was born."

"Guess I'll have to work on that. So Sam is at the house with him?"

"You remember Sam?"

Shit. He didn't know about the tv thing. "I heard you speak to him on the phone." I knotted my brows together. That sufficed. "Is he close to you?"

"He's my brother."

"Tell me about our lives."

"What do you want to know?"

"Start from right now and work back. Where the fuck are we to start."

"Sioux Falls. We live in my Uncle's House. He passed away before we met and you, your brother and your dad helped me and Sam clean the place up. I've taken over his car salvage business, when I'm not on the road."

"What do you do on the road?"

"Hunt demons, and anything else trying to kill people without a good reason. I used to do it twenty four seven, you even joined me for a while. It helped when Sam decided he needed to be normal for a while."

"Was I any good at it?"

"After a while." He smirked. "We stopped when we found out you were pregnant."

I spied the ring on his finger. I'd noticed my own; two titanium promises. Plain and perfect. How I knew they were titanium was beyond me.

"When did this happen?" I held up my hand and wriggled my ring finger.

"Six years ago."

"That was fast."

"Couldn't let you disappear on me."

That was sweet. I smiled at him. "So we moved to Bobby's when I got pregnant."

"Not right away. After a few fights about you hunting at all."

"How long was that?"

"Five months."

"Crazy." I smiled.

"You are."

"Then we moved and my family helped with the house."

"Exactly."

"I can't say this is bringing back any memories for me. These are just facts. Logical jumps to conclusions... Tell me about Robbie being born."

"You had him in there." He pointed outside to the Impala. How the fuck do you take that kind of information? "We tried to reach the hospital but the car decided otherwise. Ambulance arrived twenty minutes after you had him. I hunt monsters and that was the scariest thing I've been through."

I smiled. It must have been.

"How old is he?"

"Nearly four."

I tried to take it all in. We ordered breakfast. Full fry up for Dean and a toasty for me.

"What did we do last night?"

"I came home in the afternoon. I've been in Colorado for two weeks, so I called you up and told you I'd get Robbie from nursery. We came back, got washed and went out for food. At home Robbie passed out and we ..." he grinned into his next forkful.

"Was it good?"

He winked, "Always is."

As awesome as it is for someone to look at you like he looked at me, I was instantly nervous. As far as I was concerned, I'd never had sex with him. As least my being pregnant didn't put him off.

We left the diner with his arm over my shoulders. It was something he'd done as we left so naturally, and that I myself found I was used to. But how?


	4. Chapter 4

We drove home and I tried in vein to remember the birth of Robbie; my son. It sounded like something memorable so why couldn't I-

It hit me. It hit me like I was simultaneously in the car and experiencing the whole labour and birth at once. Dean pulled over. I threw myself from the car once it stopped and heaved. I hear his car door open, shut. His feet approach and I just shouted, "No!"

He stopped. Didn't come near just as I asked. I shook and panted for a minute, gauging if I was going to up-chuck again or not. Not. I stood. He appeared to my right with a bottle of water. He looked worried. I thanked him, took the bottle and a sip and told him; I remember having Robert.

"That's good. Maybe you'll remember how this happened. Sam's already searching the house for hex bags and anything someone might have left."

A thought occurred to me as we made our way back into the car. The hex bags made me think of witches and all the books I hoarded growing up about the occult. The TV programme brought together some books I longed to have in my life, with the details I was searching for about monsters for my novels. Did I still have the books? Were they even in existence? Did I still write novels? What about my –

"Dean, do I keep a diary at all?"

"Longer than I've known you."

I sighed in relief. I could at least know some of the last seven years, even if I couldn't remember it.

We pulled up to a place I had only ever known in small screen, as far as I was concerned. It looked smaller than I had imagined.

"Ronnie," Dean began as we closed the doors. I turned to him, waiting to find out what it looked like he was about to say, and he approached. Took my hand in his, squeezed and pressed his lips to my temple. I'll admit I felt better. I turned to the door as it opened. Sam is really tall, and he waved at us while a little boy ran awkwardly towards us. I didn't know him, but as though I'd done it hundreds of times over, I leaned down low enough to hook my hands under his armpits and lift him to my hip. Once there he reached for his dad who lightly rubbed his fingers tips on his son's head, tussling up his this brown hair.

"Uncle Sam says you're not well." He said. Jesus, his voice was cute. I'm not saying that in an adorable way; it was annoying. He stuck his head against my neck though and I replied softly,

"He's right."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"Will you get better?"

"I hope so."

Dean took him from me and commanded he stop pestering his mother. Mother. I was thirty one, with child, a husband and I was a mother.

What the Fuck happened?

I followed their lead inside and Sam gave me a hug. It was unexpected.

"How are you doing?" he asked as he shut the door behind me.

"I've jumped from going to be one night when I was twenty three to this morning. All things considered, I'm just happy to still be standing."

"We'll figure it out." He said, clapping me on the shoulder gently. I knew they would, I just didn't know if I could stay sane while I waited. I walked into the living room to find Dean on the floor with Robbie, flicking channels and talking through each of them to find the perfect station. Biker mice from mars – good boy. Dean stood and approached me.

"We named him after your uncle Bobby." I stated, watching Robbie from where I leaned. Dean 'mhm'ed. "You'll have to tell me about him some time."

His finger traced my arm absently. "I'm sorry this happened."

"It's not your fault... Is it?"

"You know, when I asked you to marry me I simultaneously begged you to say no."

"How romantic. Clearly you have guilt issues that you don't need to have." I touched his face – I don't know it was a reflex, "Relax, it sounds like the life of a hunter's wife is something I chose on my own. Just fix it, don't take the responsibility for it, okay?"

"Sam and I will go downstairs and have a look through Bobby's books. See if we can't find anything. Will you be okay?"

"Let me get my diary and I'll sit here." I looked to my son. I turned to head upstairs but Dean had has hand around my arm. He pulled me into a kiss. Can you imagine the person you've literally dreamed about pulling you in for a spine tingling kiss? I was nervous and happy and sooo embarrassed. Don't ask why – maybe it was child bearing hormones or something.


	5. Chapter 5

I never realised how many diaries I had. I was looking at five – at least the most recent was barely touched so it was more like four. But four books was going to take time to get to. Robbie was bored as I turned the tenth page or so. He climbed onto the couch and clambered over. I put the diary away.

"Daddy says you don't remember me."

The kid was smart; damnit. "He's right."

"What does that mean?"

Not too smart, yes, "Do you remember watching the tv just now?" he nodded. "And do you remember what happened in it?" he grinned with pride nodding, "Well pretend you can't. It happened but you don't know it happened."

"I don't get it."

"Well I need to learn all about you again. What's your favourite colour?"

And on and on, through food, to animals, to books, to television, to places, to the people in our lives. He yawned.

"Bed time, Robbie." Dean announced. I hadn't noticed him watch us. Robbie's face contorted and he cried because he didn't want to sleep. It was early, but what did I know about kids and their sleep patterns?

"What if I take you?" Sam started, lifting Robbie and consoling the poor soul up the stairs.

"Remember anything?" Dean asked, sitting next to me. I shook my head.

"Maybe I should go to the doctor. It might not be anything supernatural. Could just be pregnancy."

He threw me a look. "Since when was anything in our lives as straight forward as that?"

I grimaced. He grimaced. We both wished he hadn't said that.

Days passed. Nothing. No memories or leads. Apparently I fell right back into being Robbie's mum. But other than knowing things (things he didn't like to eat, questions Dean preferred I didn't ask etc) little had changed. It was late. Dean and I were on the couch, he sat upright with a whiskey in one hand, and I lay so my head was in his lap and my bare stomach was in his other hand. He'd lifted my shirt up to brush my skin. It was odd at first, but I got over it. There was a knock at the door. Rapid, panicked and terrifying. I sat bolt upright and Dean moved out from below me. Dean's phone started ringing, he indicated I answer it and I did. It was Sam. Dean opened the door. I'd started to greet Sam when I heard through the phone and through the door

"Dean- don't open th-"

A gunshot rang. I dropped the phone, moved to the cupboard and pulled a shotgun from under the wall cupboards. In an instant I knew how to disengage safety, aim and assess the scene before me. Dean had the same idea but he was a beat slower than I had been – he'd wrestled the woman at the door. She came back and I fired. Got her in the neck. I felt my stomach want to heave, but I stayed calm (some how). Dean raised his hands for the shotgun, I tossed it carefully. He said Robbie's name and I ran. More gunshots were heard. Robbie wasn't crying as I expected, he was watching at his window. Cheeky wee boy! Good thing he couldn't reach a light or he'd have been shot. I took him away from the window. We huddled up in the corner behind the door. I took the knife from his highest shelf as we crouched together and he grinned. Idiot didn't know what was going on; thank God. Silence reigned. My heart jumped into my throat – where were Sam and Dean?

"Where do you hide?" I asked Robbie.

"You can't look." He grinned. I didn't want to close my eyes but I needed him to hurry and disappear. I closed them, listened closely to his feet shuffle in case he tried to leave the room. He didn't and after one hundred seconds I opened my eyes. The sneak was gone. Good.

"Be a good boy." I commanded and I left the room. I moved slowly, the knife by my side, ready. I wanted to shriek for Dean, call for Sam but I didn't want my position revealed.

Where was all of this know-how coming from?


	6. Chapter 6

Down stairs, I looked for them. I looked outside, keeping close to the door frame and keeping as little of my body in targeting range as possible. I had to go outside. The commotion had moved. I didn't want to leave the front door and let anyone inside, but I wanted to be sure my husband and Sam were okay.

"Fuck." I hissed and turned back to the house. A dark thing stood before me. I gasped and tightened my grip on the knife. It looked human, with black shadowy eye sockets and a black shadowy smile. It was blurred and pale and at first I thought something was wrong with my eyes. It stayed still a long time. I waited, keeping my peripheral vision keen for someone using this thing as a distraction. Any first move I made could be fatal; this time a good defence was not offence. It moved quick, slimy, cold, smoky black tentacles for arms winding around my neck. I felt them tighten, bat as soon as it had moved, I had – thrusting the knife into its eye socket. My hand disappeared inside but the knife broke through the back of its skull. A force of black smoke surrounded us and passed by, letting the body of a woman drop and leaving my hand caked in black ooz.

It happened so fast. I vaguely heard Sam and Dean running, slowing and shouting 'no'. I looked at the fallen corpse and a bagful of memories slapped me in the face. I dropped to my ass and pushed my heels into the dirt, driving me away from the death of a friend. Dean met me seven pushes of my heels later, kneeling in the dirt and holding onto me, telling me it was okay, there was nothing I could have done. Sam appeared and wrapped a tourniquet round my arm, the on I'd used to stab her.

I glanced at it. At her. Double-taked as my now grey, boneless arm with black veins crawling to my elbow and screamed.

"Sam, go get Robbie." Dean commanded, scooping me into his arms and hurrying behind his jogging brother. We hurried to the basement.

"Cut it off!" I commanded.

"Don't be so dramatic."

"It looks fucking dramatic."

"I know how to fix this."

I stood and sped for the bin, threw up my guts and listened to him stick ingredients from a jar into a stone bowl.

"This is just what I need." I told the bin.

"You should have stayed in the house."

"I did, for several minutes until there was silence. I went to see what was going on – no point sitting waiting and stressing myself out for hours –" I thought I would be sick again. I waited. I wasn't, so I moved back to the bed against the wall, "Stress isn't good for our barely cooked baby, you know."

He chuckled. I glared at his back.

"Stop glaring." He called over his shoulder. He hadn't even looked. I broke down. He knew me so well and I didn't know him at all. I knew the story painted to me on television all those years ago but I didn't know this guy really. I didn't know his quirks or his passwords. What was his favourite way to see me? What memories did he have that I should – small things like that.

He sat next to me with a knife and the bowl.

"Do you want to do it or will I?"

I grimaced.

"I'll do it. You read this aloud once it hits the bowl."

He handed me a scrap of paper with his scrawl of Latin words for me. I took it in my good hand. He held the tentacle I was forming. He drew the blade across my skin firmly, and I couldn't feel it. I shuddered, waited for the stream of blood to flow into the bowl and said,

"Ne pereant. Malum sanguine mitta a. Nego tenebris comedit me. Ne me perita."

The bowl lit up white, and travelled up my stream of blood to my arm. I felt it – it fucking burned. Dean took my hand and I held out as long as I could. The sensation pulsed in my arm, crossed to my chest and I cried out as little as I could. The pain did not subside, but it eased. I still held Dean's hand.

Looking a little blue, my arm returned. He unravelled the tourniquet.

"And tomorrow we take a visit to the hospital and tell them you had pains." Dean sighed.

"Something like this happen before?"

"More than once. You're a regular Calamity."

I laughed. "I'm a Jane and you're a Tarzan."

He smiled but it was sad, "Déjà vu... you haven't called me that in years."

I put my head on his shoulder. "I wish I could remember. I feel the familiarity of it all; everything I do feels as natural as breathing but the memories just aren't there..."

I'd already had my sob so not I just felt blue. He slid his arm around me. "I remember." He assured me, kissing my temple. I turned to him. All this time we'd never properly kissed. I'd been too nervous to, as far as I was concerned until a few days ago, this guy was fictional. I lifted my head and pressed my lips to his softly. He leaned into it, wrapping another arm around me and gently parting my lips for a real kiss.

God it was good. In fact it was so good we ended up dishevelled and horizontal. I knew what I wanted, and I knew there was sick in the bin and most likely on my breath. I slid out from under Dean and suggested,

"Lets get Sam home and Robbie tucked into bed."

I walked slowly backwards to the door and Dean ran past me.

"Sam, you have to go!" I heard him call. I nipped back to the basement to deal with the bin, waved Sam goodbye as he and Dean discussed tomorrow's plan of action at the door, and caught Robbie climbing out of bed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't want to sleep." He smiled a cheeky smile.

"Why not?"

"I don't know." He giggled.

"Then count sheep."

"But there's no sheep."

I moved towards him and stretched out my hand for him to take. He took it and I helped him into bed. I tucked him in and said,

"Close your eyes. Oh! Did you see that one?"

His eyes sprang open and he sat up, "What one."

"Oh you won't see it sitting up. You have to lie down and shut your eyes."

"You're not lying down."

"No but I've practiced for so long that I don't need to lie down." I closed my eyes. "Oh! Look, another one – that's two."

I peeked and saw his eyes shut tight. "I don't see any."

"Think really hard; you can see a field. Blue skies, white clouds and green grass. There's a wall. A great big, tall wall that the sheep have been jumping over – did you see that one!"

"Yes!"

"How many is that?"

"Three!"

"You keep counting okay?"

He nodded and I left, closing the door behind me. I heard the door close downstairs. I moved to the bathroom – brushed my teeth and washed out my mouth. Dean didn't wait for me to emerge in our room. He appeared behind me topless, placed his hands on my hips and kissed my neck, pulling me close to his body seductively.


	7. Chapter 7

He appeared behind me topless, placed his hands on my hips and kissed my neck, pulling me close to his body seductively.

I spat out the mouthwash and tried in vain to apologise for my breath, but his touches made it impossible to string a sentence together. After a whole minute of exquisite torture, I turned to kiss him – or so he thought. I toyed with him for a bit, leaning into a kiss and taking his jaw in my hand to tilt his head to kiss his neck. He held onto my hips for as long as he could before whipping his jaw out of my command and leaning into one of the most intense kisses I've had in my life. I moved with him as he pushed us to our bedroom, and I moaned as he used me to click the door shut. He tore away my shirt, unhooked my bra and leaned into me – I have never felt so damn wanted in my life.

I pushed him back, undoing the series of buttons that fastened my jeans as I took small steps towards him. He did the same, kicking off his shoes and unfastening his jeans as he took little steps back to the bed. Once his jeans and underwear alike were away, I leaned down as I slid off my jeans and underwear, holding his gaze and watching his eyes move.

I barely managed to step out the legs; he pulled me to him, twisting so I lay next to him. He paused for a minute, stroking my side as far as he could reach.

"You know, you would usually talk dirty to me at this point."

I smiled, "No I wouldn't."

His grin gave him away. He leaned in to kiss me and I moved atop him, lowering myself carefully – painfully slowly – onto his sex.

Ding ding ding ding ding. I won the freaking jackpot.

We lay on the floor my legs bent at the knees, feet laying on the bed as Dean settled next to me, a sweating mess. I was in no better state. After several minutes waiting for the pulsing of my heart to quiet in my ears, he took my recently tenticle-ised arm and commented,

"I think we fixed you."

"And then some." I smiled at him. I watched his eyes; they followed his hand to my abdomen as it rested there. I didn't have a bump yet, but the dip I was so accustomed to having by my hipbones when I lay down wasn't there.

"Sorry to kill the mood but, as relaxed as I am about sex and hunting while you're pregnant, I wasn't always."

I looked into his eyes and the sadness touched a part of me the memory wipe couldn't quite erase. I righted myself and crawled into bed.

"Tell me more." I asked, feeling a flicker of devastation in my memory. Good times are harder to remember than bad, and I had accepted I was only going to remember the bad to begin with. Dean settled, his arm around me and I listened to his breathing and his heartbeat as he began,

"Last year you were pregnant. Again, not far along, and Robbie had shown us we didn't need to be scared of hunting or being together."

"Miscarriage." I said, the words knotting my chest."

"That sucked."

"What happened?"

"Demon."

"But-" the tattoo on my leg matched the tattoo Dean and Sam shared on their chests. The pendant symbol was never off Robbie's neck.

"Higher class of demon – new level of scary and I didn't think you were coming back from that."

I shuddered, "Glad I don't remember that."

"I wish I didn't." With that we added some momentary pressure to our embrace. He graced my stomach with the back of his fingers, and I tried to think about what I'd seen to make me so reckless when it came to fighting monsters.


	8. Chapter 8

_I felt, angry. That was it; that was all I could feel. I also felt claustrophobic; something else was forcing me to share my skin. I was behind Dean, who was strung up and my body was pressed to his back as I dragged what I knew to be a scorching hot blade across his skin. I enjoyed it._

_"She likes it you know, you're wife." I said, only I hadn't intended to speak. I switched hands and dragged the blade along some more of his skin – not by choice. I had no control over my body. I was just along for the ride apparently._

_Dean mumbled something and I knew the muted sound to be his retort through a cloth-gag. I wanted to free him – but all I could feel was anger and the satisfaction of the demon possessing me. I turned. There was Sam, hanging upside down feet from Dean, struggling to breathe and keep conscious. Whatever the demon was doing between these two – it wasn't working. Dean looked ahead, his face a mask of stone. Sam ignored the deep cuts on his torso and the blood blinding his eyes that fell from them._

_I felt less satisfaction and more frustration. My body moved in front of Dean and it kicked and punched him as though he had done something wrong. Maybe he had. All the same, I just felt angrier and more irate as it carried on. Then I screamed,_

_"Give me the prophet!"_

_Dean thrust his head into my face. I back tracked, clutching it. In an instant I was standing again,_

_"Alright, you brought this on yourself," I was lifting my shirt, pushing down my jeans until my ever so slightly swollen stomach was revealed. I pushed the blade against the skin and both Sam and Dean reacted much more desirably._

_Blackness._

_Dean held me up off the ground entirely and at last I could feel my own feelings; pain. I seethed, thinking that if I just breathed I could figure out why the fuck I was in so much pain. A stranger appeared – no someone I knew, but how did I know him? – and helped carry me without moving me as much as possible into a van .I think I lasted five long, painful minutes in that van. I blacked out._

_I woke up in hospital with Dean perched on the side of the bed looking out the window. He looked pale; haunted. I touched his arm and he took a second to register my touch. He turned slowly. I felt the line of scarred and tender tissue in my abdomen as I sat up to hug him. I knew what had happened. I put my arms around him and he sat a minute and stated a fact neither of us would be able to forget for long._

_"I touched it. Him or her. I don't want you hunting anymore."_

_"Dean, that could have happened to anyone."_

_"No. It couldn't."_

_He left and I let him go. Sam was asleep on the chair. I tossed a couple flower heads from the vase by my bed at him until he woke up. He started to as if I was okay, but I interrupted to ask him to go after Dean._

_Once he was gone I let myself cry._

The dream was a memory. I stood in our bathroom, this time staring at myself topless and scanning my skin for its scars. I found the mess on my stomach. I knew the doctors were concerned by the extent of the scar tissue. I found a nasty series of burn scars on the inside of my left arm, all above my elbow. My sides were a self-harmer's dream of criss-crossing knife and bullet wounds and then I looked down. With my hands over the space my tiny child grew in, it looked bigger. I tried to remember being pregnant with Robbie and all I could recall was firing a gun at a werewolf in Memphas and the thoughts I was having at the time about being more afraid than the first time I'd squared off with one. I remember closing my eyes and steadying my nerve after the fact, with my weapon less hand resting on my half-formed orb. Then I remembered the fight Dean and I had.

I wanted a happier memory. A face flashed in my mind. Female. White hair. Youthful face. Eyes heavy with burden. But no other features remained. It was like knowing the word I needed but struggling to bring it into speech.

Dean appeared.

"Is everything okay?"

"Memories." I smiled sadly. "I remember the demon."

"It's not all bad memories."

"No but bad memories are the strongest." I looked in those eyes of his, "I can handle it."

"I know." He smiled, rubbing my arm with his hand, I looked at his arm. He was just as scarred as I was if not more so. I turned off the light and moved with him back to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Life calmed down after that. I gained some good memories, learned some hard memories. I started to feel less like my 23 year old self and more like my pregnant, 31 year old mother-self. I worked our Hunter hub and reinitiated myself into my own promotion company. Funnily enough I called it 'The Hunt'. Irrelevant, while sitting and enjoying the adult company that remained from Robbie's birthday party, we got a call from the FBI phone. I got up for it, beginning to struggle with the imbalance in weight I was now carrying.

After the demon-tenticle incident I was fine and the baby was fine. So we moved on. Dean disappeared with Sam for three weeks and I guess they took care of the root of that supernatural problem. But of course, getting rid of one problem only allows room for another.

I answered the phone and a sound like nothing I could recognise flew down the line. I tossed the phone away from my ear and it exploded. The room grew quiet behind me. Dean was at my back fast asking if I was okay with his eyes. I frowned at the smouldering old phone. I asked the neighbours that hadn't been exposed to the reality of the unreal to go home for the night. They offered to stay but the perk of pregnancy is sticking your hand to your stomach and encouraging people to do what you ask works. Once we pretended everything was alright and bid everyone goodnight, I turned to Dean and described the sound on the phone. He poured a whisky for his self, turned on ACDC for me, and we hit the books.

Robbie appeared downstairs, rubbing his eyes. I stretched my hand out to him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Dean asked him, but aimed the words at me.

"Five minutes won't hurt. Will you help mum and dad?"

He nodded,

"What monster's scream?" Dean asked him.

"A banshee." He said.

"Good." I smiled, knowing that wasn't all they did.

"A ghost." He offered. Dean picked him up, sat him on his knee and nodded.

"Angels."

That face I had seen in the bathroom flashed before me. Dean's facial expression told me he had noticed I'd realised something.

"Cas'!" Dean called and Robbie's little eyes lit up and searched the room. I looked for him too but he did not appear, "Cas' we need you."

Still nothing. Robbie opted to go to bed on his own and Dean and I stared at the books strewn across the table. Nothing.

I heard a crash that woke me up and Dean must have heard it too. We both sat upright in our beds and listened for another sound.

"Dean!"

Unmistakably Castiel's voice. We hurried to him. He kneeled in the kitchen, steam snaking off his head and shoulders. He was burned, bloody and clearly exhausted. Dean went to his side, holding him up by the look of it and I gilled a glass to the brim with water. He doesn't drink but it might have made him feel better I guess. He took it and drank the contents before raising his head to us both and asking,

"Why did I have to fight angels just to get here?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Good question." Dean answered, tossing Castiel's arm over his shoulder and dragging him to the couch.

"I can't stay long. They'll come after me."

"Cas'," I started and the abbreviation rolled off my tongue with ease, "I lost my memories. I..." I looked to Dean. I hadn't confessed this part, "I know about Sam & Deans lives before I met them as though it was a tv programme I used to watch but the last 7 years of my life are gone. I got a phone call this evening. It could be anything but I keep seeing this face..."

I tried to think how to describe the face but Cas' fingertips were on my temple, white light blinded me and white noise filled my ears. When he let go, Cas' looked mad. Scary angry mad. He disappeared.

"Cas'!" Dean hollered, looking up, as annoyed as I was that he was gone without telling us what he now knew. And then Dean's anger moved over to me...

"Oh don't give me that look. What was I supposed to say?"

"How much do you know?" he said with dead eyes.

"How much have you hidden from me?"

"Damnit, Veronica!"

We hadn't fought yet, and hearing my full name announced made me angry that he was angry.

"What does it matter Dean?"

"It matters –"

"And how was I supposed to explain it? What delicate way was I to put it?"

"Angels are involved now! Do you know – Oh wait, you do! You decided not to tell me."

"I repeat, how was I supposed to –"

"You managed fine just now."

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous I felt? I mean, you heard it, right?"

"That doesn't matter!" He was in my face now, "I need to know something like that."

"Well now you do." I growled.

We stood, less than an inch apart glaring at each other.

"I'm going to call Sam, and you're going to tell us both what you know." He said carefully before moving tot he phone.

"Is this an interrogation now?"

"Yes." He barked. His eyes were burning with hurt. In his mind I'd betrayed him. To Dean Winchester, that's about as low as a person can get. I took a breath, counted to ten and moved to the kettle. Tea. I needed tea. Drinking it is fine but the real soothing comes from making it. By the time I was done Sam was knocking on the door. Dean and I raced to it but I got there first. Sam looked... dishevelled. I smiled and winked at him, making him clear his throat as he stepped inside. Dean looked between us and I saw him hide a smile behind his hand. Same parked himself on a chair at the dining table.

While I'd been making tea, I mentally listed everything I knew about them in chronicle order.

Men of Letters.

Mary's family.

Jessica.

Yellow eye's plan for Sam.

Meg.

Samuel Colt's legacy.

Ruby.

Lilith.

Hell.

Castiel.

Breaking of the seals.

Jo & Hellen

Vessels

Half brother.

No soul.

Lisa.

Leviathans

Bobby

Purgatory

Kevin

Amelia

And I relayed it to them almost perfectly. They sat in a reflective silence afterword.

"So what did you hide from me?" I asked when the question began to burn.

"Men of Letters." Sam started and Dean looked like he would kick him. "May as well."

"Sam the demon blood junkie." Dean smiled at his brother. There was nothing welcoming about it.

"Dean the soul torturer in Hell." Sam retorted with a similar smile, making Dean's features more menacing.

"Sam the man with no soul. At all."

"Blood thirsty Dean brings back a vampire from purgatory."

"Guys." I commanded attention. "This is not a competition for who has done worse things than who."

They looked away from each other and avoided looking at me. It was getting light outside. I got up and went to bed without a word. I couldn't believe he was still mad at me – like I asked to know what I knew.

I woke up as Dean's form bent the mattress and I smelled bacon. He sat a cup of tea on the unit next to me along with a plateful of toast bacon and scrambled eggs. I licked my lips.

"I'm sorry." He said as I wrapped my arms around him.

"Yeah me too." I said over his shoulder. We pulled away and I looked at him.

"You haven't slept."

He shook hi head. I pulled the corner of his side back and decided, "You sleep. I'll eat."

He pulled his shoes off and crawled in. I ate with my left hand and scratched his head lightly until he slept. I could tell by the snores.


	11. Chapter 11

I had one month left to endure pregnancy in. I was mostly confined to the couch or my bed and Dean was on a job with Sam. Robbie was my best friend – keeping me from going insane with board games, rubbing my back for a minute when I asked, and covering me with a blanket whenever I dozed off.

He answered the door and let Castiel in that afternoon.

"Where is Dean?" was his first question.

"Hunting. Robbie go upstairs a while, okay?"

He stood stubbornly and crossed his arms. "Daddy said to look after you."

"And you've done really, really well. Castiel's our friend remember, he can take a turn looking after me."

He chewed on that a sec and scurried off.

"You look better than last time, Cas'."

"Yes. This time I had a better idea of the situation."

"Which is what?"

"I would really prefer it if Dean were here too."

I dialled for him and we waited. He was driving so Sam picked up. Sam and I hit loud speaker and Castiel explained,

"Dean, while you were away in Colorado, angels came for Veronica. They tried to erase her memories, they even laced her bones with enochian sigils too in case I or my allies –"

"What do you mean allies?" Dean's voice commanded.

"Anyone who would oppose their plans. Dean, they want a vessel for Michael and since you wouldn't do it and your half-brother didn't fit they decided to take the next best thing."

"Robbie." Sam answered.

"No." Cas corrected him, "Robbie is too old. The child in question is not yet born."

I hung my head for a second, "How did this happen?"

"They're bastard angels." Dean provided, "Except for present company."

Castiel pulled a face but carried on, "The television series you remember? That was the only way in a hurry that the information you needed could be passed onto you in a hurry. Sam and Dean were erased from your memory but one of the angels obviously didn't agree with what they were doing and that was the safest place to put the information, in your past before the Winchesters were a part of it."

We all tried to process this until Dean asked, "Why does Michael want a vessel now?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"How do we stop them if they come back?" I asked, worried about the inevitable birth of my child in four weeks.

"I haven't thought of a plan yet that they can't get to you through."

I stood up and started slowly pacing.

"Isn't Michael in Hell?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Cas' replied.

"So how is he going to get out?"

"The same way you did; Crowley." Castiel provided.

"So we trap Crowley and then they can't get him to do it." Dean decided.

"Who's to say they need Crowley?" I asked.

"Damnit." I heard Dean say quietly.

"So who was on the phone?" I asked. The exploding phone trick was still irking me.

"An ally. It was the only way to let me know something was going on. My working relationship with the Winchesters is well known."

I nodded. It made sense.

"Dean, Sam," I addressed them, "How long until you guys are back?"

"We'll call you back." Sam instructed and the onset of a heated discussion was cut off as he hung up.


End file.
